Harry Potter and the Quack in Time
by Cascade Waters
Summary: Whoopsidaisy!
1. Prologue

Harry Potter and the Quack in Time

By cascade

Rating: PG

Genre: I don't think there exists a genre for this sort of… well, whatever it is.

Warnings: If Rowling ever read this, she would come after me with assorted dead otters ready for the swinging…

Disclaimer: I own only the non-canon characters and the basic idea.

A/N: This is a temporary (and apologetic) birthday gift for my dear friend Michelle.

A/N 2: PLEASE NOTE--this was started Iong before HBP was published, and is obviously being continued as though the events in Book 6 had never happened. (Oh, yeah, and any similarity between Jess and Tonks is purely coincidental--Jess was born in my mind and in this story before I read about Tonks in OotP.)

Prologue

- - - - -

"Oh…no…"

Jessie Torrence stepped back reflexively and groaned. Why did everything have to go so phenomenally wrong? She looked at the mess in front of her, then quickly looked away again, moaning. What was with this? It was a simple spell, one even she should be able to manage alone, but apparently not. It crossed her mind briefly that this just might be why this particular spell was forbidden for first-years, but she quickly pushed the thought away, telling herself that it was only against the rules so that the most enterprising students would accept the challenge.

No amount of eleven-year-old logic, however, could erase what lay before her or the sheer degree of trouble she would be in when her…mistake…was discovered. She thought about her classmates and teachers and she knew she would never live this down. Jessie glanced back at the results of her dabbling and winced. What was she thinking? Of course she would never live this down--she was as good as dead!

Then she heard a small squeak near her left foot. Oh, yeah.

So.

Very.

Dead.

The small girl scrubbed a hand back through her ultra-short, spiky black hair, then absently slipped her fingers down to scratch under the back of the worn-out collar of her "lucky" DragonBall t-shirt as she tried to think her way out of this mess. Unfortunately her thoughts, which up to now had involved a lot of running and hiding and praying, were interrupted when the mess woke, sat up, looked around, and promptly started to scream.

- - - -


	2. Chapter 1

- - - -

"It was an accident, I swear."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Sarcasm suited Hermione Granger like black suited Professor Snape; the seventh-year student talked as she walked, casing a table in the Gryffindor common room where she'd laid out all of her cross-reference materials for a paper she was composing. She rolled her eyes as Jess followed her around like a persistent puppy.

"But it really was, I promise. Please, you've just got to help me--if anyone finds out, I'm beyond dead!" Jess put on her best reasoning voice. "Hermione, think about it. It was a simple mistake, one that anyone could've made, and there's really no reason to stress out the adults about it. We can take care of it, I know we can--please, Hermione, you're the only one who can help me."

"'Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope.'" Hermione wrinkled her nose as she muttered, rolling her eyes again and finally sighing. She stopped walking and turned around to face the small girl. "Listen, Jess, I'd like to help you out, but I really don't see how you expect me to get you out of trouble. I mean, there are reasons there are restrictions for first-years, especially concerning spells and solo casting. Besides, you got yourself into this mess by borrowing the book without permission in the first place and then not owning up to it--and may I remind you that you're not supposed to be in here?"

She turned the younger girl around by one shoulder and guided her to the portrait hole, where the open-robed child turned and made one last plea.

"Hermione, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease do this for me, pretty please with an autographed photo of Brad Meine on top??" She fluttered her dark lashes, going for the angelic look. "It's not some huge deal, just one teensy weensy spell to fix another teensy weensy spell--and besides, didn't you do stuff that was against the rules here when you were my age? How would you have felt if the one woman you admired most in the whooooooole wide world could've saved you from major trouble and didn't?"

Hermione all but hissed as she shifted her weight between feet; the shameless use of her favorite professional laser tag star was a low blow, but it was the reminder of her own early adventures at Hogwarts that undid her. "Oh, alright," she huffed, "I will _see_ if there is anything I can do about it after dinner tonight, but I make no promises, and if this comes down, you get to take the heat for it. And wipe that smug look off of your face--you owe me, Jessie!"

No amount of bluster could save her from the fierce embrace that all but strangled her. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!! I won't let you down, I swear--we'll fix my problem and you'll have Brad in your hands by this time next week!"

"Oh, just get to class before you get us both flayed for truancy and… and whatever else Snape can dream up!" She called after the younger girl who was practically skipping down the stairs with glee. "And you better bring me a photo--not the _real Brad_!!"

But Jess didn't go to class. As she waited for the stairway she was on a few minutes later to finish its move, she grinned to herself, a glint in her eye as she thought of the perfect place to stow her… mistake until dinnertime. All she had to do was make sure that no one saw her, and she'd be home free in no time! This called for celebration.

Ignoring the twinge in her gut about skipping class and feeling quite pleased with herself in general, the spiky-haired preteen scampered off toward the Slytherin dungeons and her stash of peanut butter.

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	3. Chapter 2

-----

"I found the most excellent hiding place!" Jess was all but hopping as she guided Hermione out of the main hall after dinner. The older girl, considerably calmer and more wary, was carrying a small meal of bread, cheese, a chicken drumstick, and a plum, all wrapped in a Hogwarts linen napkin. She'd chosen easy foods, not knowing what was best. She rolled her eyes yet again at the first-year, briefly entertaining visions of throttling the imp. But, she thought with a sigh, Snape wouldn't like that too much, and she'd had entirely too many opportunities to displease the perpetually perturbed Potions professor.

"Jess, where are you taking me? I thought you said you did this in the old storage room."

The tiny American girl turned in mid-skip and started soft-shoeing backward. "I did. And then I found a better hiding place. Sheesh, why does no one listen to me?" She turned back around without breaking stride, launching into an explanation of why she chose this "most excellent" spot.

This most excellent spot turned out to be Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, which had been rebuilt after the troubles of five years ago but was still avoided on principle by most of the students, who found the place rather creepy. Hermione couldn't really blame them, although having spent some time in here on a couple of occasions, she really didn't share their trepidation. Apparently neither did Jess, who'd thought the stories of Hermione's adventures with her friends were "cool much."

Unfortunately, the young girl was much less… informative herself; when she'd asked for Hermione's help, she'd confided that the "mistake" was alive but didn't seem dangerous, and that it would probably be hungry because Jess had given it the last of her peanut butter and hadn't had anything else to feed it. The older girl figured Jess must have conjured someone's cat, although she'd never thought of feeding a pet Jiffy.

Hermione stepped into the bathroom behind Jess and groaned deeply, rubbing her forehead.

Jess's "mistake" was about four feet eight inches tall, with long night-black hair that cascaded in lively curls, milk-pure skin, and huge silver-gray eyes. She wore a floor-length white nightgown made of something like cotton, with lacework at the neckline, and an expression that belied both fear and curiosity. She studied Hermione warily but didn't shy away; she shifted nervously on her bare feet, as if she were ready to run, but she held her head up.

As flabbergasted as she might be, Hermione slipped automatically into the role of authority--whoever this girl was, she was here now and needed to be taken care of. "You must be freezing!"

The girl, who seemed to be about thirteen or so, jumped a bit at the proclamation, then shrugged slightly and tried to hide her feet. Her eyes widened when Hermione handed the napkin to Jessie and shrugged out of her own robe. When she stepped closer to the visitor, the girl fell back a step.

"Here, it's okay, look, see? It's just a robe, but it's warm already. Come on, you must be cold. I'm sorry, it's all I have with me. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'll find you some warmer clothes as soon as I can." She smiled a bit when the girl hesitantly reached out and took the black garment, eyeing it curiously. "Jessica," Hermione said through her teeth without turning, "please tell me you didn't conjure… from her bed."

"No! Well, at least I don't think so. Her name is Misty," Jessie announced proudly. "She's got this really cool accent, and she loves peanut butter! See, she's, like, perfect!"

Feeling her eyes go on automatic roll, Hermione sighed and focused on their guest--Misty--relieved to see that Misty seemed amused by Jessie's comment rather than offended. Hermione also noticed that Misty kept glancing at the bundle. The older girl took it from Jessie and stepped forward, holding it out with a gentle smile.

"Here, Misty, we thought you'd be hungry so we brought you some food. It's not much, but there's always more, and I didn't know what you might eat." She smiled again as Misty seemed delighted with the bread and cheese, and intrigued by the chicken and the fruit. "And don't worry, we're not all as crazy as Jess." Misty flashed a bit of a grin at that, as Jessie tried to decide whether or not she should be offended.

"Thank ye," Misty said in a quiet but strong voice, rich with Highland brogue.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and nodded, feeling much more in her element now. "You're from Scotland, aren't you?" By unspoken agreement, the three girls sat down on the floor.

Misty nodded as she ate, seeming to relax a bit with the warm food and conversation. "An' ye're from Angland, I'm guessin', but ye," and she turned her metallic eyes to Jess, "yer speech is new ta me. How did ye come by sooch a strange vyce?"

Jessie's eyes widened, and she leaned back slightly. "I'm not strange; I'm American."

When Misty just gave her a blank look, Jessie exchanged a confused glance with Hermione. The older girl took charge again, trying to fight down a tiny niggling suspicion.

"Misty," she asked carefully, "you're right, I'm British, but Jessie's from the United States."

"United states o' what?" Misty asked innocently, looking interested but confused. She turned back to Jess. "Are ye a jester? I didna think a girl could be one--d'ye work fer th'Anglish court?"

While Jessie opened and closed her mouth, trying to find a response to that, Hermione pulled herself and her schoolmate up off the floor; the niggling was becoming an itch. "Misty, would you excuse us for a moment?" The Scots girl could only nod as Hermione all but yanked Jess out into the hallway.

"Okay, is it just me, or does something seem totally off to you?!" Hermione hissed, just for a moment letting her growing dread show.

Jess seemed to think it through for a moment, tilting her head as she searched for the most positive spin. "Well, okay, so maybe she's just a little out of it. I mean, come on, didja get a load of what she's wearing? She must've, like, been asleep or something, you know, so maybe she's just, um, out of it?" Even to her the explanation seemed lame.

"Hmm, and I wonder why she might've appeared in these hallowed halls in a nightgown and fresh from sleep? Especially as you were so sure that you hadn't yanked her from her bed!" The sarcasm sparked from the older girl like the lighting of a match; Jessie flinched, but she was determined to salvage the situation--and her hide--through whatever means possible.

Unfortunately for all of them, in the next moment that became a much more difficult thing to do.


	4. Chapter 3

_Unfortunately for all of them, in the next moment that became a much more difficult thing to do._

--

As the girls were finishing up their argument in the hallway, they heard a splash, a shriek, a cackle, and a familiar noise that they couldn't quite place. They traded alarmed looks and rushed back into the bathroom side-by-side, barely able to fit. What they saw when they stumbled to a halt inside left them momentarily speechless.

The floor under their feet was covered with water, as were most of the surfaces they could see; Misty was missing. Moaning Myrtle hovered behind a stall door, only visible from her ghostly eyes up. "I didn't do it!" she wailed beofre ducking down out of sight, pretty much telegraphing that she was, in fact, at least partially responsible for 'it.'

'It' was apparently the source of the odd noise, which was now coming from somewhere along the back wall. When Hermione called out for Misty, the noise stopped, as if the older witch's voice had startled something; she called out again for Misty, but Jess had her own idea. The 11-year-old dropped to her hands and knees and crawled, peering under each stall to see if her new friend was standing on any of the seats. Expecting Misty to be pranking them, Jess peeked under the last stall, and went uncharacteristically still. "Uh, 'Mione..." she said quietly, "I think we got a problem."

"Oh, _now_ you think there might be a problem? Really? Because you seem to think that this is all just a ga--" Hermione stopped her tirade short as she turned and saw the pixie profile, pale as Myrtle now. "Jess, what is it? What's wrong?"

Jess slowly pointed one small finger under the stall. Hermione marched over, tired of the games and expecting this to be some joke the two little girls had cooked up for her. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself for a jump-out-and-scream, and vowing that she'd roast their little seats herself, she slapped open the stall door and found herself glaring at...

--


	5. Chapter 4

--

...a duck?

It was white, feathery, about average size, with two feet and two wings and a beak... and silvery eyes that pleaded with her for understanding.

Hermione's breath caught. "Misty?" she half-squeaked.

The duck gave a short blurp, and then let out a sound halfway between a quack and a wail. It--she--trembled and tucked herself deeper into the corner of the stall, her eyes holding Hermione's and looking suspiciously damp.

"Jessica, what did you do?!" The teenager turned on the preteen, hair billowing as she whipped around. The duck--Misty--squawked just as Jess opened her mouth indignantly, which would have been funny if this whole situation hadn't been so bizarre.

"Me? I didn't do anything! At least, I didn't do this!"

Hermione turned back as Misty continued to squawk. "Well, you're responsible for it; who knows what kind of other complications you may have caused for the poor girl, for all of us. Time spell, indeed."

Jess's chin trembled, but she refused to show how much that had hurt. Hermione was probably right, Jess had probably wrecked, like, the whole time stream thingy, but that didn't mean that Jess was going down without a fight. "I didn't turn her into a duck, dumbbutt! I couldn't have--I don't know how!"

Hermione huffed. "You know how to yank a girl out of her bed two hundred kilometers and _three hundred years_ away!"

Jess winced, but stood her ground. "I don't know how that happened! It was an accident, I swear!"

Between Misty's frantic noises and Jess's protests, Hermione couldn't focus. Finally, she reached into the stall, coaxing Misty into her arms while ordering Jess to fetch the robes on the floor. The teenager carefully wrapped the duck in the sodden robes, covering all of the trembling body and whispering to her to be quiet. Then she grabbed Jess's arm and marched her to the bathroom door, turning at the last second to pin Myrtle with a glare. "Not a word, a clue, a hint, or so much as a gossipy look about this to anyone, Myrtle." Sure that she'd be heeded, Hermione guided the errant Slytherin to the Gryffindor dorms.

--


End file.
